


Tomorrow

by SimplyEssa



Series: Anew [3]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Aftermath of Torture, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blood and Injury, Blood and Violence, Comfort, Embarrassment, Fighting, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, Guilt, HEAVY WHUMP, Heavy Angst, Hurt Allura (Voltron), Hurt Keith (Voltron), Hurt/Comfort, Injury, Keith (Voltron) Whump, Overuse of italics, Past Mind Manipulation, Past Torture, Past Violence, Protective Team, Psychological Trauma, Recovery, Rescues, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-06
Updated: 2019-07-06
Packaged: 2020-06-23 14:50:28
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,321
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19703608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SimplyEssa/pseuds/SimplyEssa
Summary: He opens his eyes, slowly; cautiously.The first thing he sees is his legs. Instead of the dark purple prison garbs, he sees a white and gray undersuit on them. Slowly, frowning, he looks down at his stomach, and the suit is there, too. He stretches out his arms, and… sleeves. This… this is the Castle’s pod suits.His frown grows a little deeper and he lifts his head, noticing the white walls, blue lights, and healing pods hovering in the centre of the infirmary.This is the Castle.





	Tomorrow

**Author's Note:**

> if oyu see any slashes!! i am so sorry. i finally figured out how to work google docs and ao3 and their italics and i tried to find them all (it was a reminder to myself to make them italics) but!! i mightve missed some. i figured out how to transfer them, though :O
> 
> any typos or punctuation errors are on me and not my shitty phone this time!! all via laptop

“Keith, buddy,” Lance breathes, the mangled sight of his friend laying lifeless and still on the cell floor, bleeding from various wounds on his back, brings tears to his eyes. “I— We’ll get you home, I  _ promise _ .”

He reaches out a hand to let him know that he’s  _ real _ , if they’ve tricked him into thinking they weren’t, but Keith’s glossy eyes slide shut, and he’s thrown back into Red’s cockpit with frustration pooling in his chest.

“ _ Damn it _ , Red!” He yells, his mouth down-turned and tears burning his eyes. He was so  _ close _ . A little longer, and he might have been able to find him, make a plan, and tell the others. “Send me back,  _ now! _ ”

Red remains silent beneath his feet.

“Now is not the time for  _ games _ , Red! I saw your fucking Paladin— I saw my  _ friend _ ! I could’ve  _ saved  _ him!”

She rumbles in annoyance.

_ Now is not his time _ .

“What the fuck do you  _ mean _ , not—“

“Lance?”

Lance looks down at Shiro through Red’s eyes, and something in him breaks. Tears flow slowly down his cheeks as he regards him, the anger slowly winding down but the frustration as strong as ever.

“Shiro…” he whispers, furiously scrubbing at his cheeks. His knees tremble as he pushes out of the pilots seat; they tremble the entire time he makes a slow trek to where Shiro is waiting, dark bags beneath his eyes, worried lines on his face, a tired smile and his arms open.

Lance doesn’t hesitate to accept the hug.

—=—

It’s been eight months.

He doesn’t know how they’ve managed to survive these last few months without the Red Lion; without  _ Keith _ .

Four months have passed since Red showed him to Keith, and since then, there’s been absolutely  _ no  _ sign of him since that day, and everyone’s starting to lose hope that they’ll never find him— even Lance.

Shiro is the only one who hasn’t given up, but he’s not  _ against  _ finding a new pilot, either. He understands that even though they all miss Keith— that  _ Shiro _ misses Keith— they can’t put the Universe’s downfall on pause to save him.

Up until the sixth month, everyone had been faithful that Keith was alive and kicking, that they’d find him one day soon. Their climax of hope was the day Red  _ physically showed him  _ Keith. 

Everyone was ecstatic to hear that maybe, just maybe, after four months and three days, they’d be able to find Keith. Unfortunately, though, Lance couldn’t remember anything asides from the dread sinking in his chest when he saw Keith pass out. 

Luckily for them, Coran knew how to hook the mind meld up to a large protection for everyone to see. While Lance was a little uncomfortable with everyone seeing inside of his head, he had to do it. For Keith.

Besides, it wasn’t that hard; all he had to do was try his hardest to focus on that specific memory.

All they saw was what he saw. There were no hints; no clues.

Their hope dwindled after that, until three months later, it disappeared entirely.

That is, at least, until a red blip appeared on their map during a mission to rescue some prisoners, at the eight month mark.

Lance’s chest filled with a hope he hasn’t felt in a long, long time.

“Guys,” Shiro’s voice calls over the comms, just as Lance was just about to leave Pidge to take care of the prisoners alone, “I’ll go inspect the new blip. Get as many prisoners out as you can.”

“Roger,” he says, as he hears Pidge and Hunk mutter their affirmatives as well.

Anxiously, Lance waits for a reply as they clear cell after cell. He knows he should be focused on the prisoners, but he  _ can’t _ . What was that red blip? Was it Keith? Or was it just his armour?

Or something else entirely?

He grimaces as he looks into an empty cell. There’s a pile of… something gray with white spots on it near the door. The smell is  _ terrible _ .

“Is anyone there?” he calls, because, really, he does  _ not _ want to go in there. 

When there’s no answer, he looks to Pidge. She’s already staring down at her scanner, which shows no life signs in this cell.

_ Thank god _ .

They don’t hear another word from Shiro until they’re back in the Castle.

—=—

Something’s wrong.

Keith’s been back for at least a day, now, after he was healed by the pod, but he hasn’t gotten up.

For safety purposes, they had turned the pod horizontal. Coran had assured them he would watch him at all times, but just in case, it was better for him to wake up and  _ not  _ fall flat on his face.

And while the pod had done it’s job, healing all of his new or old wounds, Keith didn’t recognize  _ anything _ .

When Shiro had first spoken to him, said that he was safe, Keith’s eyes had rolled into the back of his head and he had passed out. He woke periodically, every time mumbling something about a chip, before falling unconscious yet again.

Lance was watching him now, picking at a plate of food goo, and watching his eyes move beneath his eyelids. He rambled about everything and anything, about how many bases they took down, about the time Hunk had almost burnt Allura’s hair trying to cauterize her back, about how the food goo machine  _ broke _ , again. There was no running out of subjects when someone missed out for nearly a year.

He sighed, shifting a little further into his seat and frowning down at his plate of goo. Coran had no idea why Keith couldn’t recognize anything or wake up for more than a few minutes at a time. Originally, they had wanted to put him in his room, but Shiro said it would look too much like his cell, and Coran wanted to keep him for observations, anyways.

“God,” he sighed, dragging his free hand over his face with a sigh. He looks at Keith through a side glance, noticing the hair,  _ again _ . While Allura had spent her time cleaning it, she didn’t cut it. “I miss the mullet. It suited you a lot better than this monstrosity does, y’know?”

Nothing.

“Whatever. If you decide to keep it, it’s your problem, not mine. Besides, I have more ways to make fun of it now. Oh! And, I can curl it while you’re sleeping. Like, yeah, you’ll kill me, but it would be  _ hilarious _ .”

Lance watches Keith’s face for a reaction, but asides from a sleepy little sigh, there’s nothing, again.

Great.

With his own tired sigh, he sat up a little in his chair and shoved a spoonful of goo into his mouth.

This was going to be a  _ long  _ night.

—=—

_ Vartox, backhanding him across the face. Vartox, ripping out his tooth. Vartox, whipping him. Vartox, providing him with a decent meal. Vartox, providing him with a bed. Vartox, taking his arm. _

_ Vartox, Vartox, Vartox.  _

His eyes flew open as he screamed, loud and full of fear, his arm burning with pain it can’t find. Tears pool in his eyes and he sits up as fast as he can, using his other hand to grab the metal arm and  _ pull _ .

It needs to go. He needs his real arm back.

“Woah, woah, hey!”

Soft, warm hands grab his own and, with much effort, pull it off of the fake one. Keith screeches, tears pouring down his cheek as he tries to get his hand free, because he needs it  _ gone _ , and why can’t they understand that?

“Keith! Keith, stop!”

Keith.

That’s  _ his _ name, isn’t it?

He’d gotten so used to being called pest or boy or  _ brat _ that he almost forgot what it was. Vartox never called him Keith. He doesn’t think Vartox even knows his  _ name _ , come to think of it.

Sucking in a deep breath, he closes his eyes. He lets his hand fall limp in whoever’s holding it and forces himself to breathe.

He still wants the arm gone, but… he can’t get  _ his  _ back. It’s better to have this fake then to not have it.

“Keith,” the voice repeats, slowly letting go of his arm. It sounds like Lance, but that’s impossible. Lance is probably billions of lightyears away, eating dinner with— “Are you okay?”

He opens his eyes, slowly; cautiously.

The first thing he sees is his legs. Instead of the dark purple prison garbs, he sees a white and gray undersuit on them. Slowly, frowning, he looks down at his stomach, and the suit is there, too. He stretches out his arms, and… sleeves. This… this is the Castle’s pod suits.

His frown grows a little deeper and he lifts his head, noticing the white walls, blue lights, and healing pods hovering in the centre of the infirmary.

This is the  _ Castle _ .

With all of the hallucinations he’s had, he’s never seen the  _ Castle _ . His childhood room, once, but not… this. 

What’s going on?

“Do— uh, do you want me to get Shiro, or..?”

He startles, flinching sharply at the sudden voice, but… Lance is talking about Shiro.

He looks over at him, and his he swears his heart stops. Lance is  _ really  _ there.

Slowly, he reaches out with his real arm, resting his fingertips against Lance’s still outstretched hand. His fingertips land and he keeps moving, until his palm is pressed flat against Lance’s.

This isn’t fake.

_ This isn’t fake _ .

He sobs in relief, and doesn’t stop. Not when Lance yelps and pulls him close, not letting go of his hand. Not when he rubs Keith’s back and tries to console him, but Keith doesn’t  _ need _ to be consoled. 

Despite what he originally thought, he  _ is _ home.

—=—

To be honest, he doesn’t know what to think anymore.

As much as he wishes he could call this place home and  _ know _ it were home, sometimes… it’s not. After asking Coran countless times, he was finally allowed to walk around, with mostly free reign. As long as he met up with Shiro every other hour and meal for a check in and didn’t stay on the training deck for too long, he was free to do as he pleased.

However, there was almost always someone with him. 

Typically, Pidge hung out with him when he was taking a nap in the common room.  _ That  _ he didn’t mind because his room felt too much like a cell when he was alone, and he was never as scared when Pidge was around.

Shiro almost always accompanied him when he went to sleep, which he also didn’t mind. He slept in Shiro’s room, as his was a little less bland, and he fell asleep to Shiro’s beating heart every night.

Hunk normally stuck with him after and before meals, and worried himself sick. It didn’t annoy Keith, but… still. It did start to get on his nerves, but it almost always helped when Hunk brought along some type of baked goods. He fell asleep once, when Hunk was with him, and he woke up with his vest on him. He hasn’t given that vest back yet.

Lance somehow manages to find him every time he’s alone, and though his chatter is always just a bit too loud or a bit too annoying, he doesn’t mind being distracted from his own thoughts. The talking is louder than the whir of his arm, as well, so it’s not too big of an issue.

Whenever he can’t sleep at night, Coran manages to bump into him when he’s walking. They sit in the common room until Keith’s fear settles and his eyes slide shut, laying against Coran with Hunk’s vest over his pyjama shirt.

Allura, however…

He only ever sees her during training or meals, and even then, she refuses to meet his eye. He hopes she isn’t mad about him being a Galra again. He doesn’t know what he would do if she were to start ignoring his presence. The others would follow, and then  _ everywhere  _ would feel like a cell, and--

“End training sequence,” A voice calls out and he freezes at first, throat dry and eyes wide, before he realizes that it isn’t an enemy, looking to torture him, but Allura.

Before he can ask her what she wants, or even put his sword down, she’s stalking towards him with her staff in one hand and some sheathed knife in the other. Fear burns in his gut and he tries to take a subtle step back, but he stumbles over his own feet and then proceeds to stumble his way through a million little apologies, because he fucked up in front of the  _ master, and now she’ll bring out the controls, and-- _

A hand on his shoulder jerks him out of his head and he flinches harshly, breath caught in his throat as he notices Allura’s face-- albeit a little blurry from his tears-- hovering in front of his own.

“Keith?” she asks, her voice concerned and worried and, to say the least, confused. “Are you--”

But there’s something in her voice. It merges into something deeper, and the face before him-- it’s  _ Vartox _ .

He was such a  _ fool.  _

His fist flies before he even registers it, landing against something solid as a crunch fills the air. Something warm and liquid-y splatters against his knuckles and he pulls back, adrenaline coursing through him.

Then the purple lights flicker away. Vartox’s face swims out and his voice is higher pitched, laced with pain, and realization hits him like a  _ truck _ .

He just punched  _ Allura _ , and she’s kneeling on the ground, clutching what’s probably a broken bone as pink blood drips down one nostril and off her chin. He hadn’t  _ meant  _ to hit her, but she wouldn’t understand, would she? She never understood when Shiro had his own moments, but he had never acted out, so it must’ve been easier. God, she’s going to  _ kill him _ .

As she looks up, Keith’s fear takes control and he stammers out an “I-- I’m s-sorry,” before he bolts, as fast as he can; as far away as he can get.

  
  


—=—

He expected Shiro, but he’s a little later than usual.

He skipped the next two meals and every check up, but Shiro had delivered food to his bedside without a word. The first time he came in, he looked sad as he took in Keith’s teary, fear stricken face and pink, bloody knuckles. He had directed Keith to the bathroom with a gentle hand and set him down on the toilet as he washed off the dried blood;  _ Allura’s  _ dried blood.

He didn’t say anything, but when he finished, he pulled Keith in for a hug, kissed the top of his head, and promised to be back with dinner.

And he did. It was the same soup as the previous night-- something that tasted like beef and carrots-- and it sat in his stomach this time, thankfully. The last few days, nothing had been sitting well. He even puked yesterday morning.

He wasn’t expecting anyone when Shiro didn’t come in at his usual time with his blanket and a pillow, and though he was disappointed, he didn’t get up to go see him. It was fine. 

He deserved to be left alone, after what he did.

When a knock sounded again, he frowned, but got up from bed. He hated being watched every other minute, but after his stunt in the med bay of trying to rip off his arm, and being gone for what they had said was  _ eight months _ , he doesn’t mind  _ too  _ much.

The door slides open and Keith has to bite back an annoyed remark when he doesn’t see Shiro, because it’s  _ Allura _ .

“Keith,” she says, softly, voice a little too high pitched and sounding clogged. A blue bandage was taped over her nose. 

“A-- Allura-- I mean-- Princess,” he stutters, hands shaking where they lay dormant at his side. He broke her  _ nose _ . Oh, god, she’s going to shoot him out of an airlock, or feed him to her mice,  _ or-- _

“Are you alright?”

He’s startled out of his thoughts when Allura speaks up again and he frowns, blinking. Why had she asked _ that? _

“You seem pale, and-- you’re not breathing alright. Is this that ‘asthma’,” she adds finger quotes, looking confused, “Shiro explained Pidge had?”

“Oh-- oh,” he breathes, hunching his shoulders. He shakes his head and crosses his arms, feeling the way his legs are shaking to  _ run _ , far, far away, before she can get him. “No. Uh, I-- I’m sorry about-- about your nose. Did you-- need something?”

Instead of pulling out that knife she had earlier, she giggles. 

She  _ giggles _ .

She finds it… funny? She isn’t  _ mad? _

“Oh, heavens, don’t worry about it,” she tells him, a genuine smile on her face, and… All of the adrenaline leaves Keith and is replaced by a fresh wave of relief. Thank  _ god _ . There’s still a nagging guilt for punching her, but… at least she’s not mad. “It’s just a small cut and Coran’s over worried about it. You didn’t break anything.”

“I-- okay,” he nods, slowly, before repeating himself. “Do-- do you need something, or can I..?”

She looks a little startled, partially confused, before she makes a little ‘o’ shape with her mouth. “Oh, of course! It’s late, isn’t it? Well, I just wanted-- to return this. I found it in the wreckage when we went back to where you were taken, and… It didn’t seem right to abandon it, given how hard you fought for it back at the Blade’s headquarters, or so Shiro told us.”

And then she holds out the knife she was holding when she came in the training deck, and his breath gets caught in his throat.

Tears rise to his eyes as he reaches out an unsteady hand, wrapping his hand about the familiar handle. Allura doesn’t laugh as he brings it closer, inspecting it, and-- this is his knife. The one he thought he  _ lost _ .

“Thank you,” he chokes out, before he crashes to his knees sobbing.

Warm arms wrap around him, whispering reassurances but all he can do is  _ cry _ like a little kid after dropping their ice cream, but… he doesn’t feel any embarrassment for it. Not right now, anyways.

—=—

Shiro is there the next night, a pillow in hand and a blanket over his head, a tired look on his face. It’s the most tired Keith has ever seen him.

He steps aside with his own yawn, purposely ignoring his arm, and lets Shiro in. Shiro offers a grateful little smile, yawns, then climbs into the bed. He settles against the wall, shoving his pillow beneath his head and getting underneath the blanket before adding his own on top. It helped; Keith was almost always freezing at night.

Neither of them say anything as Keith grabs Hunk’s vest and climbs in beside Shiro, turning his back to him and taking Shiro’s flesh hand in his own. Shiro knew-- no, he understood  _ why  _ Keith absolutely  _ had  _ to be on the outside. He couldn’t have his back to any threats; couldn’t be  _ vulnerable _ , and even after all of this time, Shiro… he was still his safety net, in a sense. Keith was glad for it.

There’s a beat of silence before he hears Shiro sigh softly before tugging the blankets further up his body. They go a little closer to Keith’s chin than he prefers, but it’s not too bad. It  _ is  _ warm, after all.

“So,” he starts, quietly, but it’s still loud in the near suffocating silence of his room. “I heard what happened yesterday. Well-- I  _ saw _ , actually. Allura was laughing by the time she got to the infirmary. Did you know they bled the colour of their marks?”

Keith’s heart is stuck in his throat as he shakes his head, eyes wide. He doesn’t want to leave. There’s so much here that he wants to keep-- like  _ Red. _

“I didn’t either. Imagine my surprise when Allura ran in, holding a pink, bloody nose. But, uh, if you’re worried; don’t. It’s not broken, just a small scratch. She’s--”

“Please don’t make me leave,” he blurts out, eyes wide. Immediately, he flings his hand up to cover his mouth, because if he wasn’t thinking about it before, he definitely was now, and he didn’t want to leave--

“Keith, kiddo,” Shiro says softly, kindly, and he squeezes his eyes shut, eyes watering. He can’t take it anymore. He  _ can’t.  _ “Breathe. Breathe for me, okay? You’re not going anywhere. I promise.”

All he can do in response is sob.

Crying like this; it makes him feel horrible. All it does is leave him with a pounding headache, a sticky face, and a gut full of burning embarrassment. All it leaves the other person with is a ruined shirt. Despite it all, though, he continues to cry as Shiro turns him around, into his chest. He doesn’t stop, but does slow when Shiro rubs his back and whisper to him.

They fall asleep like that.

—=—

Hunk asks for his vest back the next day.

He can see it on his face that he hates asking this of Keith, and he seems to know that Keith’s been using it like a teddy bear, but “ _ on Earth, today would’ve been the day my grandpa died, and this— the vest, it—“ _

And Hunk didn’t have to say anymore, because Keith understood perfectly.

“Sorry it smells so gross,” he offers a sheepish smile when he finds Hunk sitting in the common room, frowning down at his headband. “I haven’t had the chance to-- to wash it.”

Hunk shrugs.

With a frown, Keith trots over until he’s directly in front of him. Something is  _ definitely  _ wrong; Hunk  _ never  _ acts like this. 

He holds the vest out to him, and when Hunk lifts his head to grab it, Keith sees the tears welling in his eyes and, without much of a thought, pulls him into a gentle hug.

He tries to keep his body relaxed as Hunk grabs him tightly, sobs shaking his shoulders. It would do no good if Keith were to panic while the nicest man in the universe was hugging him. The effort proves to succeed, though, when all he feels is comfort, warmth, and safety. It’s like the entire world has disappeared within Hunk’s arms, and with it, his problems.

Bit by bit, his tears subside and he sniffles, wiping at his eyes. Hunk doesn’t let go, which… Keith will admit that he doesn’t want to, either. 

Slowly, Keith lowers them to the ground. It’s a relief, to be kneeling instead of standing. Hunk seems to appreciate it too, as he mumbles a quiet thank you and loosens his hold.

In return, Keith smiles and rubs his back. It’s his first genuine smile in ages; the first time he can live knowing nothing is behind him to torture him again.

“No,” he says, softly, barely audible. “Thank you.”

—=—

He’s started taking to wandering the halls at night when he can’t sleep. The nights are few in between though, as Shiro almost always wakes up at some point during the night, or when Keith starts having a nightmare. Shiro’s too light of a sleeper for his own good, but it  _ does  _ help Keith when he’s in the fits of a bad dream. He almost always wakes up pressed against Shiro’s front, face sticky and holding his hand tightly.

It calms him down a  _ lot _ , according to Shiro.

The walls are dull and dark at this time of night, even with the blue light emanating from the floors. If he were to walk around nearly two weeks prior, he’d break down crying due to the darkness, but now… he knows nothing is there.

The whirring of his arm is annoying, however, but he knows nothing can fix that. That is his arm, now. He can’t change it unless he wants to be fighting the Galra with only one arm.

A loud bang, followed by an even louder curse, startles him out of his thoughts and his breath catches in his chest, heart racing. What was  _ that? _ Everyone is in their rooms at this hour-- except for Coran, but Coran doesn’t say  _ human  _ cusses. There would have been a loud  _ quiznak _ , not--

“Fuck! Fucking--  _ fuck! _ ”

Ignoring the fear curling in his gut, he continues forwards, towards… the Green Lion’s bay. 

Huh.

He didn’t notice how far he walked from his room.

Another loud “ _ fuck!”  _ is exclaimed just as he pokes his head in, and he ignores the sharp flinch when he sees Pidge, bent over a pile of metal. There’s wires and more metal scattered to the side, as well as her laptop and a few tools.

“...Pidge?”

Her head whips up and around, confused, before she finally notices him, and she visibly relaxes slightly. She offers a strained smile before turning back to… whatever it is.

“Uh… are you okay?”

“Peachy!” she yells back, maybe a little too cheerfully, and Keith takes that as inspiration to enter the room without her permission. 

She looks up at him, an eyebrow raised, when he sits beside her and sinks until his head is on her shoulder. She relaxes again, releases a breath, and leans her cheek on his forehead. He tenses at first but relaxes; it’s Pidge, not  _ him. _   
  


Neither of them talk as Pidge continues working on whatever it is she’s working on. It’s a comfortable silence, filled with only their breathing and the bits of metal banging together as Pidge makes… something. He still doesn’t know what, exactly, and he’s too tired to ask. 

“Thanks,” she mumbles, after a while, and Keith nods against her shoulder. He sinks a little more into her arm before closing his eyes. For some reason, he felt safer with  _ her  _ than anyone else. Sometimes even Shiro. While Shiro pushed him to talk about it if he could, Pidge waited for him to talk and sometimes, they didn’t talk at all, and… he needs that, sometimes.

It doesn’t take long for his consciousness to slip into a dream.

—=—

“So,” Pidge says, the next morning at breakfast, gathering all of their attention. Keith looked up from his plate of goo and… something that resembles sausages in taste, but look like purple and blue triangles. “Keith.”

He frowns but focuses his gaze on her. She pulls something from her lap-- that thing she was working on last night-- and slides it across the table to him. Keith barely catches it with how heavy it is, but…

“Uh,” he frowns down at the… vaguely collar shaped hunk of metal. It looks incredibly thin, but it’s  _ heavy _ , and--

_ Vartox is grinning down at him, that remote in his hand. Pain arcs up his spine-- _

“...quiet down.”

He looks up, blinking widely and in confusion. Lance is poking his arm, looking more than a little concerned, and Pidge is shifting her glasses, leaning over her plate of food with a smirk. SHe was… explaining something.

“Sorry, uh, what did you say?”

She huffs out an annoyed breath, rolls her eyes, but explains it again anyways.

“I heard your arm last night. It’s, like, really fucking annoying-- how do you sleep with it?-- so… I made this silencer. It feels really heavy right now because it’s not attached to anything, but, uh, once you put it on your arm, it should become, uh, more quiet, or nothing at all.”

A small smile pulls at his lips and he looks down at the circular piece of  _ red _ metal, before back up at Pidge. “How do I--”

“Just put it around your arm like one of those old sweatbands. Shiro wore them all the time on Earth during his Abba phase.”

Shiro chokes on his drink, coughing harshly into his elbow with a bright red face. Lance laughs, proclaiming something about how Hunk owed him ten bucks. Hunk buried his face in his hands and he was laughing, while Allura and Coran looked confused.

“Thanks, Pidge,” he offers her a smile, holding in his own laughter as he wraps the band around his arm. Pidge is right; it does remind him of when Shiro used to wear them.

“Tell me if it works later, okay? And if you need, like, improvements, don’t be shy to ask. It’s a prototype; there’s bound to be some bugs.”

He nods before startling when Lance grabs him by the arm and hauls him to his feet, belting some song at the top of his lungs. He makes him dance and Keith plays along, laughing as Shiro buries his face in his hands.

—=—

He does, in fact, tell Pidge that it works later, after dragging her into a long, tight hug to which she complains that ‘my ribs are  _ fragile _ , Keith!’

—=—

__ “It’s your fault,” Lance whispers from where he’s laying across the bridge, blood pooled beneath his leg-- or what was once his leg. The rest of them are dead or dying, spread out across the room. Shiro had a blast to his head that had knocked him down right away and Coran had died on the spot when Vartox’s sword had slid through his chest.  
  


__ The rest of them had fought, sure, but they weren’t strong enough to beat Vartox. None of them were, and especially not Keith.  
  


__ He had a sword in his hip, pinning him to the ground. Every inch of him hurt, and he sobbed when Vartox tore the sword from Coran’s chest and approached Lance; the last Paladin left, save for himself.  
  


_ Vartox would end it all with a wicked grin, and Lance was right. It was his fault.  _

_ He gave him the answers he needed to end his friends lives. _

_ “I’ll never forgive you. None of them will. You’re a horrible--” _

A sharp gasp escapes him and he awakens in a cold sweat when Vartox slides his sword through Lance’s stomach.

_ It’s your fault. _

He looks around, noticing the blue of his room, the cold chill to the air that Keith preferred at night, the warm weight across his chest. He closes his eyes, digging the palms of his hands into his burning eyes before he decides he can’t take it. 

Shiro, fortunately, is still asleep as he peels his arm off his chest and climbs out of the bed. He doesn’t bother changing; just grabs his knife before leaving.

The door opens and closes with a faint swoosh that  _ hopefully _ didn’t wake Shiro up, but he’ll never know, because he keeps walking, and walking, and  _ walking. _

God, he was stupid to think that he was really safe. He would never forget the rancid smell of Vartox’s breath, the victory in his expression when he had finally broken him down to a submissive ball of fear. He would never forget how he believed every word Vartox had said and gave him all of the answers he needed just to escape a bit of pain.

Sure, it kept him fed and a little less hurt, but he gave him  _ answers _ , something he swore  _ never  _ to do, and--

“Number four?” Coran’s voice startles him from his thoughts and he inhales sharply, ignoring the burning in his eyes when he sees him standing there, alive and well and  _ concerned _ . “Are you feeling alright?”

A sob builds in his throat before he can muster an answer and tears escape his eyes. 

Coran reacts instantly, wrapping his arms around him in a loose but comforting grip. One hand cups the back of his neck and the other rubs his back, alternating between small circles or his spine. He shivers and clutches Coran’s shirt in his fists, trying his best to keep quiet; people are sleeping, after all.

“It’s alright,” Coran whispers, holding him a little closer, “You’re alright. Everything will be okay, Keith. I promise you.”

Keith is a fool.  
  


He believes him.

**Author's Note:**

> I KNOW I KNOW I AM SO SORRY  
> a l o t happened within the time it took me to write this.
> 
> skip if you dont want my life story right here (not really-- just the past month)
> 
> ok so. m gf and i broke up, then i was kinda drained for a bit like? i tried to write but it was all shit so i just waited for a bit. then!! then i got into this huge argument and couldnt make ymself do anything no matter how hard i tried and THEN i had fucking EXAMS which i passed, btw ;), on to grade eleven without a hitch  
> like guys!! the start of this semester, i was FAILING math. i hate math. ive never been good @ it, but im so sad bc the teacher i actually learned from wont be my teacher this year :(  
> anyways! so that happened. and then basically i got distracted with like. a lot of parties with friends and whatnots. and then my camp thing to become a counsellor ( this year, i cant be a camper:() good news though!! i was accepted :D  
> and then i got into another argument with the same person and. like. deadass. i was writing that day and then i couldnt anymore bc i was drained agian.  
> then the day i decided i wanted to write some more, THE POWER WENT OUT. and, yeah, i could write on google docs on my phone but the power was out for like four hours and i didnt know how long my battery would last, so i didnt risk it. i spent my time slapping colours on a canvas and hoping for the best, and.. yknow what, its kinda good so far. its not done yet, but!!!  
> not to mention?? periods?? and?? guebrigjerg??? my sisters grad?? ugh. its a mess, ok. im a mess.  
> also ts like?? super hot out and. i dont function well with heat.  
> and like. thats the short version. it was a l o n g month.
> 
> skip this if u dont want a life story
> 
> i m so sorry!! this took la month when i promised it would take like 3 days gbugnikrthjn. i hope you guys enjoyed!!! kudos are appreciated and.
> 
> this is no longer a trilogy. thats right. ive got some snippets planned.
> 
> see yall next time!!!


End file.
